


To the Sea

by BastardSirius



Series: Puppy Love Playlist Challenge [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Self-Reflection, Sirius Black in Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardSirius/pseuds/BastardSirius
Summary: 'Do you think of me?'It was a petty thought, a selfish thought, but Sirius hoped he did. He hoped that Remus still loved him. He knew it was impossible - one of the reasons the Dementors let him think it, sometimes - but he thought of it all the same.'We used to love going to the beach,' he thought as he watched the waves hit the shore of his prison. 'Do you still go? Do you think of me when you see the waves?'He could almost feel it when he imagined Remus’ kiss as they lay lazily on the beach. Summer of ’78. It had been perfect.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by To the Sea by Seafret

**_Do you think of me when you look to the sea?_ **

**_I know it's hard to grow when you're pushed to your knees._ **

_To the Sea - Seafret_

 

Sometimes, particularly when a fresh convict comes in, there will be days in a row where the Dementors don’t get too close to him as they are too busy devouring the happy memories off of the fresh meat.

It is on those days that Sirius feels brave enough to stay in human form longer than a few hours at a time. He stands up and looks outside his window to the North Sea. He allows himself to remember fragments of his lost life. He tries not to think too many happy thoughts so as to not attract the Dementors but it is not a difficult task these days, staying miserable. Even happy memories are bittersweet at best.

He doesn’t waste those rare days on thoughts of Peter. That anger fuels his determination to stay sane even when the cold desperation of Dementors’ vicinity encloses upon him. No, he doesn’t think of him when he has control over his thoughts.

Instead he thinks of a boy with messy hair and glasses, in a constant state of euphoria judging by the constant grin on his face. Or used to be, until… Until. Until he wasn’t happy any more. None of them were. He had watched tiny slivers falling off of his best friend’s soul with every Death Eater raid, with every muggle or wizard they couldn’t save, with every time James came to Sirius shaking saying he and Lily had been attacked again, and barely survived. Piece by piece, James’ grin had disappeared. By the end, even smiles were coming hard to him. They couldn’t move past half-hearted jokes over Firewhiskey the night they cast the spell that would end up costing them their lives.

He dares think further back, sometimes. First looking around as if he would see the Dementors coming before feeling them, he dares think of a particularly fun night in sixth year when they had pulled the Great Great Hall Prank as they had dubbed it. It had been an amazing night because not only had the prank worked (mostly) as they had intended, but because it was the culmination of weeks of research. The best pranks always were. The fun of seeing people scream and run around was one thing, but to see a perfectly executed plan that they had worked hard for - that was the real victory.

He remembers the light-brown haired boy’s laughter as he threw back his head, giggling uncomfortably as if drunk. He remembers how beautiful the sight was.

 _Do you think of me still, Moony?_ he thinks.

He wonders what his friend must be doing now. When he was sentenced, there had been a new legislation that had gotten approved to make werewolves have to check in four times a month with the Ministry, with heavy incentives on castration. He winces as he wonders how they might do it, practically speaking. Would they really take the testicles off, like with dogs?

He thinks of how many times Remus had been rejected from jobs. Those were the more pleasant memories about Remus’ employment history. The worst were the ones who would make him work 29 days, then refuse to pay. He would have no course of action except to accept it and move on, being what he was. Not ever, and especially not at war time.

He doesn’t blink back the tears as he might have in a past life. There is nothing to hide from, here. Nothing to be embarrassed about. All inmates here have heard screams and cries from each and every cell.

_Where are you now?_

It’s odd to think that he has no idea where Remus is. Towards the end - and of course once they stopped living together - he had rarely known exactly where he was, but they had at least met up every now and again so they had some sort of proximity, and could reasonably assume that they were within the Kingdom at least. Now Remus could be living in India with four kids for all he knew. The boy he had spent every birthday with for a decade was out there somewhere and he had no idea where he was or how he was doing.

_You know where I am, though._

Sometimes Sirius will let himself hope that perhaps Remus knew that he wouldn’t do this. Maybe he even fought for him, for his innocence, but couldn’t do anything. Maybe he still loved him, somehow.

_Do you think of me?_

It was a petty thought, a selfish thought, but Sirius hoped he did. He hoped that Remus still loved him. He knew it was impossible - one of the reasons the Dementors let him think it, sometimes - but he thought of it all the same.

 _We used to love going to the beach,_ he thought as he watched the waves hit the shore of his prison. _Do you still go? Do you think of me when you see the waves?_

He could almost feel it when he imagined Remus’ kiss as they lay lazily on the beach. Summer of ’78. It had been perfect.

He doesn’t know if it was his smile that caused it or if the new inmate had finally given enough of himself to stop being amusing to the Dementors, but he feels a cold chill running through him and knows that they were back.

He transforms into a big black dog and lets out a sad huff as he lays down by the corner of his cell.


End file.
